. Simple. Final. But I knew better. Liam, my Liam, the man I was going to marry, the man whose brilliant
an who couldn't stand the existence of an illegitimate son poised to become his rival. Li
g root. A quiet, burning rage. They thought I was just the grieving girlfriend, a b
rget was there, holding a glass of champagne, surrounded by his sycophants. Etha
red. His friends saw me coming. One
' s your little
is time. I remember back in college, she' d follow you to t
remembered it all. Every feigned smile, every "accidental" encounter. It was all part of Liam'
lem on a coding project, a problem I had already solved two weeks p
it out y
aise, only to be ignored or brushed off. Each rejection was a small piece of a much larger strategy
me, his expression a mix of pity and
a small,
to get you. You've h
favorite brand. A detail I knew from
lapdog. She even knows your
learly pleased. "She' s loyal
r, his drunken boasting filled the silence. I just nodded, my hands steady on
usly studied. I put him to bed, tucking him in like a
burner phone from my purse. The scree
hing is
s. It felt cold and foreign on my
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